"When Deja’s breathing had evened into deep sleep, he slipped from the bed, found a shirt and trousers, and made his way to the fireplace, where he put fresh wood on the embers. He sat on his heels on the hearth, watching the new flame glow and run over the wood, blue and yellow and orange, trying not to think about how hungry he was, trying only to think about the warmth on his face and arms, trying to believe he would be all right."